Talk Spanish To Me
by CrookshanksTheKneazle
Summary: A team of Spanish business executives visits Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but Ron, George, and Angelina realize they don't speak any Spanish. Confusion ensues when Ron is tasked with finding an interpreter. A Ron/Hermione one shot with some George/Angelina and Harry/Ginny.


**Summary:** A team of Spanish business executives visits Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but Ron, George, and Angelina realize they don't speak any Spanish. Confusion ensues when Ron is tasked with finding an interpreter. A Ron/Hermione one shot with some George/Angelina and Harry/Ginny.

**Disclaimer:** The rights to Harry Potter and any associated characters, themes, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own this world. I merely write in it.

* * *

Ron Weasley made his way down Diagon Alley with a spring in his step. The crisp morning air felt revitalizing and fresh, the day awakening like his eager mind, and it seemed that nobody, not Fortescue at his ice cream parlor, or the spry young attendant at Flourish and Blotts, or even the lethargic storekeeper at the apothecary, could fail to notice his chipper demeanor.

"Morning, Flo," he chimed as he spotted the apothecary storeowner, standing outside with her arms elbow-deep in what looked like a vat of animal spleens.

The woman blinked solemnly as her hands squished through the contents of the vat. "Looks like _someone's_ happy today," she mumbled as Ron, oblivious in his own cheerfulness, made his way down the Alley.

The bell tinkled in cheerful greeting as he entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The store whirred with life, as if it too waited in excitement for the day ahead. Ron gave a quick hello to the staff members wrangling Decoy Detonators, skirted two flying contraptions, skipped up the stairs (being careful not to slip on their new 'Galumphing Goo') and turned left to a door marked 'Bored Room'.

He entered to find his brother George in deep conversation with Angelina, George's wife and fellow executive. After the War, Fred's death had left a dark space in each of the Weasleys' hearts. Indeed, George had relied on his twin to be his other half for so long that at first he did not feel whole without him. It always seemed that Fred was the one with the funniest ideas, the cheekiest comebacks, the loudest laugh. How could he carry on? After a difficult grieving period, Angelina had been the hand to pull his drowning heart from vicious waters. With Angelina's guidance, and later Ron's, George set back to work on the business that he and Fred had started together. With George as Chief Executive Officer, Angelina as Chief Operating Officer, and Ron as Chief Strategic Officer, there was no limit to how the three could expand the Wheezes empire. And that was exactly what Ron had in mind today.

"I assume you made presentation boards for this?" George asked, eying Angelina's documents as they sat at a circular, multicolored table.

"I did, but I gave up and decided to make them into origami swans."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because you said that doing presentation boards was more painful than listening to Ron's dad jokes." Ron scoffed loudly at this.

"No, I mean, why origami _swans_?" George demanded, "I thought we were experimenting on origami _bears_ this week? You can enchant them to fight each other and everything."

Ron brought out his leather notebook and pen, completely unfazed by this unusual boardroom conversation. It couldn't have been stranger than last Friday's, he thought. It involved a tub of fizzing whizbees and a hefty dare from Verity, who had been promoted to General Manager after years with WWW. He sincerely hoped that their international guests this week would enjoy George's 'Bored Room' meetings as much as he did.

"Hey, Angelina, can you read the letter for us again?" Ron inquired.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "I expect you've got it memorized by now." Nonetheless, she withdrew a crinkled piece of parchment from her breast pocket, the folds worn from many readings, and began to read:

_Hello Weasleys,_

_It was great speaking with you last week about a possible alliance with the House of Laughs Joke Company. My colleagues and I are excited to come all the way from Spain to discuss how we might be able to help set up a Wizard Wheezes branch in our home city of Barcelona. We have heard so much of your products and we can't wait for our grand tour of the London location! I just wanted to caution you beforehand that my colleagues Pedro Mart__í__nez, Marta Garc__í__a, and Ra__ú__l Leal don't speak a lot of English. Don't worry, though: As long as I'm around, you'll have a good translator on hand._

_Looking forward to seeing you!_

_Sincerely,_

_Carlota Novoa, _

_Chief Executive Officer_

_House of Laughs Joke Company_

_Barcelona, Spain_

"I had a long-distance floo call with Carlota yesterday," George said, "Her lot should be in at any moment."

"Can you imagine having a Barcelona location, though?" Angelina asked, "That would bring us to a total of four branches." Her eyes sparkled with the same ambition that they had when she was Quidditch captain at Hogwarts, which, considering her tough leadership style, scared Ron just a bit. She was right though: the WWW had three impressively popular branches. The original in London still held a lot of fan fair, but the branch in Hogsmeade at the old Zonko's location was a big favorite for Hogwarts students. Even the Paris branch (facilitated by Fleur's connections) had proven to be quite the success amongst French teenagers. They were all hoping that an alliance with the House of Laughs could give them everything they needed to attract the Spanish market.

Ron's train of thought was broken by the tinkling of a bell, a bang, a loud crash, and the sounds of shouting in Spanish. Ron could now argue with Hermione that learning only Spanish swear words was _not_ a waste after all, as the people below seemed to be using all of the words he knew.

George smirked. "Sounds like they love the Whizbangs."

"Oh Merlin, I am so sorry!" they heard Verity plead. After a couple minutes, they could hear a set of feet scurrying across the hard wood floors and up the stairs, followed by a small scream and Verity's shouts of 'damn Goo!'

Verity then threw open the door to the Bored Room, looking haggard with her hair sticking out at multiple angles. "Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, the Spanish executives are here," she panted.

The three jumped out of their chairs, and Ron nervously followed his brother and sister-in-law downstairs. A dark-haired witch and two wizards stood in the center of the store, looking a little ruffled. But rather than feel offended by their run-in with the fireworks, the three seemed in good spirits. The young witch, who Ron assumed to be Marta García, giggled and pointed at one of her colleagues, a man Ron's age whose eyebrows looked as though they had been singed off. While one of the wizards, an older man, was wearing handsome purple robes, Marta and her eyebrowless colleague had decided to wear brightly colored Muggle business suits in a failed attempt to blend in with the London Muggles.

"_¡Hola!" _George greeted as he approached them. He then proceeded to use the meager Spanish he had learned to introduce himself, Ron, and Angelina. The executives kindly introduced themselves in Spanish as well. The young woman was, as Ron had expected, Marta García. The older man in the robes was Pedro Martínez, and the man in the suit was Raúl Leal. After the introductions, the three executives exchanged nervous glances. Ron realized what was wrong.

"Um, isn't Carlota supposed to be here?" Ron asked.

"Ron, you git," George whispered, "They don't speak English."

But it seemed the three had clearly understood the mention of Carlota. They whispered amongst themselves in rapid Spanish, and then the two men lightly slapped Marta on the shoulder.

Marta reluctantly stepped forward. "Um…Carlota? No," she said, with all the anxiety of someone attempting to speak a language they hardly knew, "She's…sick. Before coming, she's sick."

"Sorry," Raúl added to George.

Angelina's eyebrows rose. "Um… ¿_Un momento por favor?__**" **_The executives nodded to her, and Angelina turned to huddle with Ron, George, and Verity.

"What are we going to do?" she asked them briskly, "We've spent weeks preparing for this. This deal is supposed to be groundbreaking for us, but they hardly know English, and we can hardly speak a damn word of Spanish."

George did not seem fazed. "Angie, we're all jokesters here," he assured her, "Laughter's a universal language."

"But contract language isn't!" she snapped in a whisper. "Look, George, they seem nice, but we want to know that the terms they're asking for are ones we can agree with, and for that we need-"

"-Someone who speaks Spanish fluently," Verity sighed, "I don't know of anyone."

George's eyes sparkled with the greatest of ideas. "No, but Ron does."

Ron looked taken aback. "I don't know anyone who speaks Spanish!"

George rolled his eyes. "Back when you were an auror, one of your old auror pals was from Spain, right? Fernandez?"

"His parents are..."

"And he's over at the Ministry now, right?" George was speaking extra slowly now, as if he was addressing a child. Ron decided to keep his patience in check.

"Yeah."

"Well then, go fetch him for us!"

Ron hesitated. "I can't."

"And why the hell not?"

"It's been a while. I haven't spoken with Fernandez in years-"

George made a dismissive sound. "I'm sorry, mate, I didn't realize you had to ask him out to tea and rekindle your bromance before he helps you with one of the most important deals of your career. You take your time, I think there's a spot in the store room where our Spanish friends can sleep until you get back."

"Fine!" Ron grumbled, "I'm going, I'm going!" He made to turn out the door when a dragon-shaped Whizbang decided that this was the perfect moment to explode…in his face. The pleasant tinkle of the bell mingled with Ron's swears.

**...**

"Level 2: Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the cool female voice chimed from the Ministry lift, "Including the Improper Use of Magic Headquarters, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

Ron plowed out of the lift, nearly knocking over two very short elderly women holding stacks of pamphlets. Roaming these corridors felt as usual and comfortable as it did when he was still an auror, years ago, before his kids were born, before he and George had realized that, when George stopped trying to take the mickey out of him, they actually got along quite famously. He had realized that auror life wasn't for him anymore, and that was okay. Harry had stayed though, and, as per usual Harry fashion, quickly ascended through the ranks.

Ron thought he would have problems with the security guard who stood at the door to the Auror Department, but he recognized Ron and let him through (any other day Ron would have advised him to do some more checks next time for safety purposes). Ron hurried through the main department floor full of cubicles, waving to old friends here and there. The space eventually narrowed into a corridor, where there were several offices fronted with panels of frosted glass. He turned to the door on the left, which was made of sophisticated-looking mahogany and had a brand new golden nameplate:

_Ar. Harry J. Potter_

_Director, Auror Department_

Ron knocked on the door and was met with a series of frantic scuffling sounds. "Come in!" Harry finally called.

Ron hurried in. Harry looked mildly flustered, as if he had just settled down in his chair. "Hey mate, how's it going?"

"Is Armando here?" Ron asked, "We've got some visitors from Spain at the W and we can't make a business deal without someone to translate. George wanted to borrow him for a little while."

Harry seemed to be nervous for a moment, and looked around his office as if Armando Fernandez might pop out from behind his bookcase at any moment. "Armando, you say? Er, no, he's on vacation in -,"

There was a soft rustle in the closet to his right.

"What was that?" Ron asked pointedly.

"What was what?" Harry asked innocently.

"That shuffling sound! I heard it in your closet!"

Harry didn't look at the closet. "That's just my…dark detectors! Those buggers are old as Dumbledore, need to have those checked…"

Ron shook his head. Several years of auror work and fatherhood had given him a sense of when things were afoot. He had a feeling…

"Ginny, you can come out," Ron declared.

The closet door creaked open. Despite the irritated expression on her face, Ginny Potter looked as radiant as ever. The golden stitching on her slimming black work robes glimmered as she emerged, a stark contrast to the second-hand clothes of her youth.

"I knew it! Of course."

"It's not what you think," she growled.

"Then what exactly are you doing," Ron asked, "In the closet, in Harry's office, with the door closed, in the middle of the work day?"

"Finding my Quick Quotes Quills," she explained. She produced a wooden box from the inside of the closet and opened it to show him a series of simple duck feather quills. "When Harry was moving his stationary supplies to his new office he accidentally took some of mine. I need to do an interview tomorrow and I can't work without them." She closed the box and put it under her arm. As a journalist for the Daily Prophet, Ginny had found that Quick Quotes Quills had helped her work immensely. Fortunately for Ginny's interviewees, her quills were used for the sort of honest commentary that Rita Skeeter's work lacked.

Ron's face reddened a little. "Oh, I'm sorry I assumed…I thought that maybe…"

"It's fine," she said, sitting on the edge of Harry's dark, polished desk. She was taking this insinuation very well, seeing as she would usually tell him off for making assumptions on these occasions. "Did you say you need someone who speaks Spanish?"

"Yeah. Guess I need to find someone else."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, their mouths twitching.

"What?" Ron demanded.

Ginny smiled knowingly. "Ron, you know someone else who speaks Spanish fluently, even if that someone isn't a native speaker."

He had to fish in his mind for a second to realize the answer had been obvious all along. He could defend his slow thinking by saying that their visitors and the business proposal and the chaos and the general excitement of the day had made him temporarily forgetful. "Hermione!" He exclaimed, "She speaks loads of languages!"

Harry nodded quickly. "Yeah, mate, how about you ask Hermione? See if you can catch her between meetings."

"Yeah, I will!" Ron said excitedly, "Thanks, Harry!" Ron sped out the door to find his wife, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the office.

For a moment, there was silence. Then-

"We shouldn't be doing _that _in your office again," Ginny murmured.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Harry teased.

"I'm serious, Harry. Ron almost caught us that time."

"I swear, he's had the worst timing since we were teenagers."

Ginny nodded. "I wonder if he noticed that his eyebrow was smoking? In any case, I'm just glad that my original reason for coming _was _to find the Quills."

"Yeah, and then you wanted to see all of the new perks that come with being the Director's wife-"

"Like privacy, you mean?"

Harry sighed. "I can't win, can I?"

"Nope."

**...**

George was growing impatient. Where was Ron? It should have been easy enough to get Fernandez. After all, Ron was best friends with the newly appointed head of the Auror Department. Instead, they were all seated in the break room at the back of WWW, still awaiting an interpreter. It had been fine for a while. George had given Pedro, Marta, and Raúl a tour, and they had been impressed and entertained by their products. But the conversation had approached a point that required actual language, and now everyone was sitting awkwardly at the break room table in silence. Verity had left to manage the staff members and customers. Raúl and Pedro chatted quietly to each other in Spanish. Marta and Angelina cuddled a Pygmy Puff that had previously escaped its cage, and even the Pygmy Puff was starting to fall asleep.

Angelina stood up. "George, I think it's time we offered them something to eat. They've been here long enough."

"Okay, let's ask them."

Angelina frowned. "I know how to say 'do you want' in Spanish, but I forgot how to say 'food'."

George handed her a small pocket dictionary that she recognized as the one he had been carrying around for the last couple of hours. She rifled through the pages and stopped somewhere in the 'F' section.

"Here it is," she said. She then proceeded to utter a sentence in Spanish to Carlota's colleagues.

The three raised their heads confusedly, looked at each other, and snorted with laughter. Pedro, ever the mature businessman, was fighting a losing battle against his own smile. Raúl shook with laughter as he covered his face. Marta had almost fallen off her seat in a fit of the giggles, causing the offended Pygmy Puff to scurry back to its cage.

Angelina turned to George, who was smiling unabashedly.

"You didn't happen to _confund_ this dictionary, did you, Love?"

George leaned towards her. "As a matter of fact, Angie, I always thought life was a little dull without a confunded dictionary."

Angelina shrugged. "It's a miracle I've survived raising your offspring, George Weasley."

**...**

Ron hurried down the hallway of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, this time away from Auror Headquarters and towards Hermione's office. Hopefully Hermione was not in a meeting, or out to tea with a colleague, or in a Wizengamot hearing-

The lift at the end of the hall dinged, and a bushy-haired figure entered it.

Ron bolted down the hall, his lungs aching for air as he threw his hand between the doors and slipped into the lift to join Hermione, the sole occupant.

"Ron! Is everything all right? What happened to your face?"

Ron keeled over, panting. Hermione had told him last week that it wouldn't kill him to work out more. Maybe she was right.

"Hermione - I – need - you," he said between breaths.

Hermione pursed her lips indignantly. "_Right now_? Love, I have a meeting with the House Elf Delegation in half an hour. I need to prepare."

"But- it's important!" Ron insisted, "I need you to speak Spanish for me."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "This is neither the time nor the place." She pressed the button for the Atrium. "Perhaps if you asked me on a Friday night-"

"This can't wait, Hermione!"

"It can and it will. I might respect Harry and Ginny, but I don't intend on taking a line out of their book anytime soon- the both of them, holed up in his office today- in the middle of the workday, no less…"

Ron looked confused. "Ginny said that she was getting a box of quills."

"Second box this week," Hermione murmured knowingly.

Ron decided to use the empathetic approach. "I understand that you don't have a lot of time," he said, "It'll be quick, I promise."

This seemed to shock and anger Hermione even more, if possible. "Quick? How dare you! You think that you can just use me for what you need, Ronald, just like that? Don't you care?"

"Hermione, _please_," Ron begged, "George and Angelina would really appreciate your help."

"Wait…what?" For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger looked extremely confused.

"Well, we need somebody to speak in Spanish, you see," he explained, "Because we've got these visitors from Spain. Can't make a business deal without a translator, you know."

Hermione's eyes widened like saucers. "Oh, _of course..._that's what you meant…I would be happy to be your interpreter. I'm sorry, Ron, I thought that maybe…well, it doesn't matter…" Her cheeks turned a brilliant shade of magenta, and she did not meet his eye.

"Wait-what did _you_ think I was asking for?"

She shook her head. "Never you mind."

"Atrium," said the cool female voice. Hermione and Ron exited the lift together and headed for the apparition point.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"If this deal goes through…"

"Yes?"

"And it's very profitable…"

"Yes?"

"And I get a big new office in the London branch-"

"No."

"But you didn't hear what I-"

"I heard you, and, to answer your question, I would prefer to accidentally leave my quills in our home office. Preferably on a weekend, sometime between the hours of six and eight on Friday, when Harry and Ginny can pick up the kids."

Ron's gaze lifted hopefully. "So, it's a date, then?"

Hermione smirked. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"You owe it to your visitors to say at least _one _sentence to them in their native language."

"Does-

"No, Ron, 'your fucking mother' does not count as a sentence."

"Hermione?" They had finally reached the apparition point.

Hermione turned to face him. "_Yes, _Love?"

"In all seriousness, you make me a better man. You've taught me everything I know."

Hermione smiled and took his hand in hers. "And you, my love, have taught me the virtue of patience."

"Thanks," Ron said brightly. He then cocked his head suddenly. "That _was_ a compliment, right?"

Hermione didn't answer.

_Pop._


End file.
